Liar
by mypenmyworld
Summary: Dean learns that love isn't as simple as he would like it to be. 2/?
1. Chapter 1

Lying is easy, Dean knew that - hell he'd been doing it for most of his life. No, being honest was hard, screw what people say. There's too much that can go wrong when you tell the truth. You can't control the truth, but you can control the lie. The worst part about telling the truth was that you had to admit that it is just that - the truth.

"Dude," Sam sighed tiredly, "did you hear anything I just said?"  
"Of course." Dean barked back.  
Sam seemed to bite back his initial words and responded with a better thought out response, "So, we agree that we should go back to the Men of Letters bunker and do some more research before we hit up whatever is going down in Wisconsin."  
"Obviously. " Dean lied, looking away to hide his face from his brother's knowing eyes.  
"Right..." Sam wanted to ask the obvious question, but let it go. After spending the last thirty-six hours awake his wasn't up for the fight he knew asking Dean 'what's up' would turn into. Instead Sam turned towards his window and closed his eyes.  
Something's wrong in my head, that's it. Dean tried to comfort himself as Sam slept - thank...well not God...for that. He wasn't up for any touchy feely shit at the moment. What little mental faculties he had left wouldn't bare it. It was all he could do to keep his mind on the road as it was. If he let his mind wonder he knew exactly where it would go, and he just couldn't do that. Not now. It would be so easy to; it felt so right, hell it felt like home. I'll never have that, so why think it. And with that Dean focused on the road, counting down the miles until he could go sleep in his room.

"Sammy," Dean said gruffly, his voice giving away how tired he really was, "we're here...get your ass up and into bed. Don't bother me for at least four hours. You can nerd out if you want, research whatever, but don't fucking wake me up." Both Winchesters stumbled into their makeshift home and went for their respective rooms.

Dean didn't know how long it was since he'd fallen asleep, but his door opening woke him up. A shadow darkened his doorway, and he stiffened, ready to react at whatever happened next. Instead of movement, it was a smell that came towards Dean. A familiar smell, one that made him stiffen in a completely different way. No. Not now. I can't do this now. Dean shifted in his bed; the figure stood unmoving. Some small part of Dean wanted the figure to come closer. He wanted to end the years of wondering that broke though his daydreams, his thoughts, when he wasn't careful enough to make sure they didn't. He knew the thoughts were wrong - they had to be. A bigger part of Dean was afraid of what it would mean if the figure came closer. It would mean no more lies...and Dean didn't know if he could handle that.  
"Why are you here?" Dean whispered.  
Some distant light danced on the face of this shadowy figure. The light reflected off this solitary figure's smile.  
"Why are you here; why are you smiling?" Dean swung his legs around, up and over the side of the bed; his feet hit the floor with a slap. The lone figure watched, the smile never leaving his face.  
"Talk damn it! Talk." Dean stood, and began to close the distance between them.  
"Dean," Sammy's voice called, "wake up." There was a gentle shake that tore Dean from his too-real-for-comfort dream. He shot up out of bed, eyes open and panting.  
"Are you...ok?" Sam asked from a few paces back.  
"Yeah," Dean wiped the sweat from his face, "just a bad dream." What's another lie...

"So, what you're telling me is that you don't have a god damned idea what is going on in Wisconsin." Dean said, perhaps a bit too harshly, as he opened a beer.  
"Well, no, not exactly." Sam looked thorough the mixture of handwritten papers, books, and web pages he had in front of him. "What I'm saying is right now there isn't enough evidence to help narrow down what's going on in Wisconsin. So I can't know for sure."  
Dean looked at Sam in a cut the bullshit kind of way.  
"Ok, fine, I don't have a god damned idea what is going on in Wisconsin." Sam sighed in defeat.  
"There, was that so hard." Dean smiled, taking another sip of his beer.  
"We could always go back, take another look around…try to get more evidence to go on." Sam looked at Dean, defeat written across his face.  
"Na, you stay here," Dean finished his beer quickly, "you keep looking and I'll go back. When I find something I'll call."  
"Dean," Sam stood, leveling his gaze on Dean, "you can't leave me here. I'm not a child. You need me for backup."  
"What I need is my geek brother reading all this boring crap while I go look around at an area we've both already seen," Dean grabbed his coat and travel bag, "so that when I call with some new information he can use that to narrow our search and be ready when I come back to pick him up so we can kick this things ass. It's just a better user of both our time." Dean headed for the door, and then turned around. "Let's be honest your the brain, and I'm the brawn, the looks, the humor, the –"  
"Yeah, right, I get it." Sam rolled his eyes. "Just call when you find something." He went back to reading. Dean smiled to himself as he walked towards the Impala.

Five hours into his over eleven hour drive to Cedarburg, Wisconsin Dean exhausted most things he could actively think of. He spent time thinking about the case, running down everything he and Sammy had come across in their eight years together. He thought about his dad's journal – he knew every page of by heart – and nothing in there helped. He allowed a few moments of sadness over Bobby – he would have known what this was. He spent a brief moment wondering where his heavenly help was. Not fucking here, like usual lately; was the second and last thought he gave to that. At the tail end of this first five hours Dean thought about his latest dalliance into . Sadly this ended up being a gateway to the very thoughts that Dean was trying to keep out.  
Dean fiercely shook his head. He shut his eyes tightly willing the last images in his head away. A soft kiss on his neck…goosebumps all over his body…a familiar hardening. His hand reflexively shot towards the radio and turned the volume of the current track up so loudly that thought wasn't an option. It wasn't too long after this that Dean found a dirt road gas station and pulled in for gas. He had some decisions to make. He'd left the bunker around one, so he could both rest at some motel and get up early to get to Cedarburg by around noon, or he could just drive straight through and get there around midnight. He weighed his options as he walked into the convenience store. A very primal need made his decision for him.  
"Ladies night huh?" Dean questioned the attendant as he noticed a sign for a local bar. "How's the beer?"  
'Well, people don't exactly go for the beer," the young guys gave a sideways smile, "if you know what I mean."  
"Sounds like my kinda place," Dean handed the kid some money, "sounds like just what I need."

The bar wasn't exactly hard to find; the big neon boots gave it away. Luckier, still, the bar ended up being near a motel that didn't look too dirty – at least not for the night. Dean pulled his baby into an open spot behind the bar. Dean smirked to himself as he as he exited his car, closed the door, and started towards the bar. As Dean entered the bar the warmth of too many bodies in a small area assaulted him. This is just what I need, Dean thought to himself as he found an open seat at the bar. It didn't take long for Dean to find, flirt with, and convince a particularly endowed woman to follow him back to his probably clean motel room.  
"Well, Callie, the night's not getting any younger." Dean smiled smoothly.  
"It's Cassie," the brunette girl finished her drink, "and you're right cutie – let's go.

"You have protection, right?" Cassie asked as she threw her jacket over the nearest chair.  
"Of course," he said with a devilish smile, "plenty for the whole night."  
Dean shut the door and crossed over to stand in front of Cassie. Then, rather suddenly, Dean grabbed Cassie's face and kissed her. There was nothing romantic about this kiss; it was hard and dispassionate, filled only with the primitive need to touch another person. And in this particular instance, it was filled with a deep need to forget. Dean's hands moved from Cassie's face down her shoulders and to the small of her back, pressing her against him. Dean felt his heart rate increase and his blood flow double; he moaned uncontrollably into her mouth. His hands moved roughly to the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head as he walked her to the foot of the bed. Cassie's knees collided with the edge of the bed and fell on top of the mattress. Dean let her fall, taking his shirt off before he allowed himself to fall on top of her. He lifted her hips and pushed her further up the bed, following suit quickly.  
He positioned himself between her legs and found her mouth with his again. His tongue explored every inch of her mouth, his hips grinded into Cassie – her back arched in delight. Dean took that opportunity to deftly unfasten her bra. He flung the bra to the side and took a moment to appreciate the perky wonder that were Cassie's breasts. His mouth pounced on one nipple, sucking and biting – taking his cues from the moans that Cassie made. He switched to the other nipple, equally as ferociously, as Cassie whimpered with delight. Dean's mouth let go of Cassie's nipple, only to allow his mouth to wander down her stomach to the top of her pants. He stopped, looking up to taunt her. Then began to unbutton her pants removing them and her underwear in one fluid, almost practiced, movement. He quickly removed his own as well, letting his overly swelled penis fall out – that sensation alone cause dean to sigh with pleasure. Dean nimbly pulled out and put on a condom before he repositioned himself between Cassie's legs. Dean could see the wetness dripping from Cassie, he couldn't take it any longer, he quickly and energetically entered Cassie's waiting, wet, opening. The sensation made Dean shutter with pleasure and Cassie scream with satisfaction. He slowly pulled out, until just the tip of his cock was at Cassie's entrance. He quickly rammed – nothing gentle about it – back into Cassie. He lowered himself right on top of her, putting his arms under and around Cassie's shoulders. He nestled his face into that tender area between Cassie's head and shoulder, kissing and biting as the mood took him. Cassie lifted her legs up, pulling her knees towards her chest, her shins parallel with Dean's sculpted abdomen. At this invitation Dean slide even further into Cassie. They quickly found a pace that allowed both to moan, sigh, and cry with excitement. Dean swiftly exited Cassie, put his hand under her hip, pushing it up and over. Cassie took the hint and turned over onto her knees. Dean grabbed her both hips with his hands and slide Cassie onto his hard, throbbing, penis. He used his hands to move her in rhythm with his pulsating hips. Dean threw his head back – he was close. Cassie lowered her head screaming into the pillow. Dean felt her warmth clench around him, and then his world went dark. "Cas…Cassie" was the only word to leave Dean's lips. When he came to again he had collapsed onto Cassie, who had collapsed onto the bed. They syncopated panting filled the room. Dean slid out of Cassie, and rolled to the other side of the bed, his back to Cassie. He soon fell asleep.

Dean's phone woke him up. He groggily stumbled out of bed in search of his pants and phone. Some part of his noted that Cassie was gone, and he was thankful for that at least. Morning afters were never neat or fun. He found his pants at the based of the bed, his phone it his front right pocket.  
"Hello." Dean more demanded than answered.  
"Well, good morning to you too man." Sam responded loudly, or maybe it just seemed loud to Dean.  
"Dude," Dean rubbed his eyes, "what could be so important that you woke me up.  
"Oh nothing," Sam sighed, "just that I figured out what we're looking for."  
"Great, and that couldn't wait." Dean headed toward the bathroom for a shower.  
"Dean, people have died, I'm sorry if I woke you up, but now that we know how to stop this." Sam sounded hurt and a little disappointed.  
"Ok, ok," Dean started the shower, "I will be back in about five hours."  
"Five hours?" Sam questioned skeptically.  
"I decided to spend the night halfway, is that ok?"  
"Yeah, I guess it worked out better that way in the end." Sam conceded.  
"So, I am going to shower, then get back in the car and head back to the bunker. You must be lonely there nerd boy." Dean smiled.  
"Not really. Cas showed up around 3am and has been sitting here with me. He hasn't actually said anything…but it's nice to have someone to talk at." Sam laughed to himself.  
"Cas?" Dean almost whispered.  
"Yeah, it's actually kind of weird…"  
"I'll be right there." Dean hung up the phone, turned off the shower, got dressed, checked out and jumped in the Impala, all in the span of about three minutes. His tires squealed as he turned the car back toward the bunker – to Sam and Cas.


	2. Chapter 2: Realizations

Dean pulled up to the bunker in less than four hours. He barely parked the damn thing and he was out of the car. Dean walked quickly – he actively stopped himself from running – into the bunker.  
"Sammy!" Dean growled as he entered the main study of the Men of Letters compound.  
Dean spun around, looking for any signs of where Sammy and Cas were. He threw his hands up, brought them down on his head, and ran his fingers angrily through his hair.  
"Sam!" Dean bellowed again.  
"Dude," Sam stumble out of nowhere looking tired, "why are you yelling?"  
"Where were you," Dean closed the distance between them in no less than two steps, "I was calling you!"  
"Yeah, I heard." Sam rubbed his eyes. "Why are you yelling exactly?"  
Dean was taken back by this question. Why was he yelling? There was no real reason to yell – was there? In his moments of contemplation Dean staggered backwards, allowing his thoughts to flow through his mind – freely and without restraint. He continued stumbling until his legs found the edge of a chair. He sat down out of habit…and mild confusion.  
"I…" Dean tried to explain why he was so riled up, but words failed him because he just didn't know, "I thought you had something…we need to kill whatever the hell this is in Wisconsin." The response came from a deep part of Dean's mind, one based in self-preservation. The answer was not one he had actively thought of, rather it just fell out of his mouth. The answer surprised him as well as Sam.  
"Dude, freaking out and yelling isn't going to get us there any faster," Sam started back towards his room, "so calm the hell down…I am going to get dressed and we can leave."  
Dean stared off into the distance. He was slowly recoiling his mind into the manageable mess he was used to. He was making his world make sense again after this brief moment of unexplainable madness.  
"Sam?" Dean spoke quietly, stopping Sam in his tracks out of the sheer oddness of the sound of his voice.  
"What." Sam replied flatly.  
"Cas," Dean licked his lips and gulped, "you said Cas was here…where is he?  
"He left almost right after I called you." Sam replied nonchalantly and continued to his room.  
"Oh." Dean said to himself as he hunched over in his seat, closing his eyes, and putting his head in his hands. All that could be heard was the sound of Dean's purposeful regulated breathing.

Sam and Dean were in the car over an hour before they talked. Sam spent the time looking at his brother, wondering and worrying for him. He knew something was wrong, but that is normal for them. What he couldn't figure out was what was wrong. He racked his mind for anything that could have caused Dean to act so weird. Nothing happened that could cause this, Sam was sure. As far as their life goes it's been normal for them. Normal itself was weird, but not weird enough to cause Dean to go off the deep end. The best approach to this would be to ignore it for now, Sam decided, and hope that Dean brought it up.  
"So," Sam started, and then waited for an indication that Dean had heard him. Dean nodded, and Sam continued, "I think we're dealing with a rogue Egyptian god."  
"Well, that's a new one." Dean grunted as he shook his head in disgust.  
"Yeah, well, we wouldn't want it to get boring would we?" Sam smirked as he read information on the laptop he had opened on propped up on his knees as Dean drove.  
"Well, I'm a captive audience."  
"So, here's what we know." Sam breathed in deeply. "There have been four instances of sets of parents being killed, mysteriously of course, leaving an orphan. Each of these families only had one child."  
"And that's weird why?" Dean stole a glance at his brother.  
"At first I didn't get it either, but then I dug into each family's past and found an interesting similarity." Sam fingers moved gently over his keyboard. "In each case the family's had child and protection services involved in their lives at some point," Sam paused and shifted uncomfortably, "and in two of the cases more than once."  
"So these people hurt their own children?" Dean barked.  
"Hurt is putting it mildly. But there is more that's weird."  
"Weirder than some assholes hurting their child?"  
"In each case the person in charge of keeping these kids safe was the same guy." Sam clicked on his track pad. "His name is Herman Bes."  
"Other than the awful name what is weird about this guy?"  
"Well," Sam gulped, which Dean took to mean that Sam was now giving him theory rather than fact, "there is a god, an Egyptian god, named Bes. He is the god of war and slaughter…a destroying force of nature." Sam stopped and sighed. "Dean, he was also a protector of children."  
"So, let me see if I can guess where this is going." Dean cover his mouth with his right hand, then removed it dragging it slowly down his face until it fell into his lap. "You think because this guy's last name is Bes, and there is a god named Bess, and because these dick parents are the ones being killed it all adds up to an Egyptian god working in back-of-nowhere Wisconsin?"  
Sam grimaced, "Yeah, that's about it."  
"Right. Well, then, we'd better get there and talk to this guy."  
Sam half laughed in disbelief, but chose to stay quiet and not push his luck.

The brothers drove in relative silence for the rest of the trip. There were a few words here about stops for gas and food, some more about theories on their current job, and their last words were about what to do that night.  
"I say we get some grub, a few beers, and sleep till tomorrow and we'll go talk to Bessie." Dean suggested.  
"It's Bes, he's not a cow, but otherwise I agree."  
Dean smirked, nodded, and turned the car into a nearby burger place.

Sleep came easily for Dean that night, which was never a good sign. The dream was familiar, too familiar really. A shadow in his doorway, a familiar smell that pervade the room, and a figure that stood unmoving. There was always that small part of Dean that wanted this person to come closer.  
"Why are you here?" Dean spoke in his dream.  
"You know why Dean." An all-to-familiar voice responded.  
"I can't do this," Dean choked out the words, "it's wrong."  
"You do so many things that others would say are wrong, but this is where you choose to draw your line." The figure laughed as it moved closer; it was still in shadows, but just barely. "This is what you want, but you will not let yourself have it because you believe it to be wrong."  
"No, it is wrong." Dean stood up from the bed he'd been laying on in the dream.  
"How is it wrong Dean, please explain it to me." The person didn't move out of the shadows.  
"Because!" Dean roared back at the form hidden from view. "A man is supposed to be with…"  
"…with a woman. A man is supposed to only love a woman." The man in the shadows replied, a hint of disappointment.  
"Yes, god damn it, alright! That is the way it is supposed to be." Dean answered with a defeated sound to his voice.  
Dean walked over to the shadow that hid the man from view. He stood on the edge of the light and stared into the not too dark doorway that hid his tormentor. Dean's shoulders were slumped in disappointment. His eyes did not dare to look up at the shape that lay just beyond the shadow. Dean's face was distorted in pain; a pain that cuts deep into the soul. Dean hated himself, he hated that as strong as he knew he was, and could be, he wasn't now. He couldn't even look this man in the eye. This man who used to bring him comfort, laughter, warmth…now all he felt was the cold trickle of shame and confusion. Funny enough, it was those eyes that started all of these feelings. Those emotive, loving, passionate eyes, they were the first things Dean had allowed himself to notice. They haunted him now; he couldn't look up into them.  
"Please just give me some peace, at least in my dreams."  
Dean woke up violently, arms flailing and legs kicking. The first thing Dean saw was Sam looking at him very concerned.  
"Bad dream?" Sam questioned tentatively.  
"With our lives when aren't the dreams bad." The finality of the tone to Dean's voice stopped Sam from questioning any further.

Dean took his time getting ready that morning. The shower pressure and the warmth made it almost possible for Dean to attempt to forget what was tumbling around in his head. His mind wandered around his problem for a while, and now it was fully taking over. What Dean relied on was that he knew what was right and what was wrong. That very fact allowed him to kill and not question his actions. Knowing what is right allowed him some solace in an otherwise terrible "profession." Knowing what was right let him sleep at night. Now, he didn't know what was right. He'd slept with women after having met them in some dive bar and left before they woke up in the morning. He had no problem with that; there was no pretense about what their relationship was. They both had a need they wanted filled and it was fun for both of them. There was no point in confusing the matter for the girl in question because Dean knew he couldn't be more than a one-night stand and perhaps a bad drunken decision. But now he had a feeling, one that he'd felt once or twice before, a feeling that isn't wrong. Loving another person is not wrong. What he was conflicted about was the fact that this person was not a woman. How could he have these feelings for a dude? He wasn't gay. The sheer number of girls he'd slept with proved that, right? What he couldn't deny was the feeling he got with him in the room. The feeling he got when he left. The dreams didn't help either. How could this feeling, this love, be wrong when every other time he felt it it was right? How can you decide when love is right? In his work there was no such thing as black and white, as much as he wished there were. Maybe this is the same thing. Maybe love functions in the world of gray. Maybe love is love and he should stop trying to make into something more than that.  
Dean turned the shower off, feeling both lighter and cleaner. He toweled off quickly and went back into the room he and Sam were sharing. He stopped dead in his tracks.  
"Cas?"  
"Hello Dean," Cas tilted his head, "I have some news you may be interested in."  
"Yeah, thanks man." Dean licked his lips. "Just let me get changed and we'll talk.  
"Yes, clothing would be more appropriate wouldn't it?" Cas sat stiffly in the nearest seat. Sam sat on his temporary bed watching his brother and his angelic friend.  
"I am going to go get some coffee and breakfast. I'll be back." Sam said more to himself than anyone else. Dean nodded out of habit and Cas just stared at the opposite wall. Dean knew that Sam had left but all he could see were Cas's eye. Damn those eyes.


End file.
